


don't tell me you wouldn't like this (watch this with me)

by ladywinter



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Banter, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mountain Ash, creeperness, lacross game, oops I accidentally a fic in tumblr's comments, will probably be jossed this monday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 07:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/ladywinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Saucery was talking about Peter/Stiles in her tumblr and I'd mentioned wanting, in ep 11 or 12, for them to interact while Derek was <i>watching</i> and which caused her to mutter endearments to which I started to comment... and then it got out of hand. </p><p>I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't tell me you wouldn't like this (watch this with me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saucery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/gifts).



> [saucefactory](http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/post/28545135421/ladyw1nter-saucefactory-morethanlesskati)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> :
>
>> >   
> [ladyw1nter](http://ladyw1nter.tumblr.com/post/28544727826/saucefactory-morethanlesskati)  
> :
>>
>>> > >   
> [saucefactory](http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/post/28544019303/morethanlesskati-saucefactory-i-like-you)  
> :
>>>
>>>> > > >   
> [morethanlesskati](http://morethanlesskati.tumblr.com/post/28543922093/saucefactory-i-like-you-stiles-all-the)  
> :
>>>>
>>>>> > > > >   
> [saucefactory](http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/post/28543598623/i-like-you-stiles-all-the-peter-stiles-give-me)  
> :
>>>>>
>>>>>> > > > > > > >   
> _  
> I like you, Stiles.  
> _  
> 
> 
> # ALL THE PETER/STILES
>
>> > > > > # GIVE ME ALL THE PETER/STILES
>
>> > > > > # GIVE ME _ALL OF IT_
>
>> > > > > # *SCREAMING*
>
>> > > > > STILES AND THE HALE MEN. THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS ALWAYS INTENSE.
>
>> > > > > > > >   
> BTW, PETER YOU MAY BE A PSYCHO, BUT YOU AT LEAST APPRECIATE STILES. I MEAN, WTF.
>>>> 
>>>> HE HAS GOOD TASTE.
>
>> > > > > >   
> THAT’S AT LEAST HALF THE REASON I LIKE HIM SO MUCH.
>
>> > > > > >   
> BECAUSE HE LIKES _STILES_. HE _APPRECIATES_ STILES.
>
>> > > > > >   
>  BLESS.
>>> 
>>> It is part of my tiny wishes for ep 11 and 12 that Peter and Stiles in some way interacts with Derek _watching_. Nnngh.
>
>> > > >   
>  ‘cause really.
>
>> > > >   
> _really._  
> 
>> 
>> You filthy little _thing_.
>
>> >   
>  By which I mean: YES.
> 
> Why thank you.
> 
> It's how I roll.
> 
> Something right under the bleachers perhaps..

...Peter's hand a gentle grip on Stiles' neck, mouth close to those human ears because the crowd is loud and he doesn't want the boy to miss one word and he leans in, in a way that anyone looking in from lit places might view it as a simple townie giving simple encouragement to a high school student.

Someone ducked further in the shadows would see, however, that he's far closer than is strictly necessary, pressed in farther than one might expect of propriety and the bulk of lacross padding. They'd see the way Peter's mouth is still opened, near the moon-pale crescent of Stiles' ear, the fingers curled around Stiles' neck becoming claw-tipped.

"Oh god, what, that—that's entirely unnecessary, I _heard_ you all right? But I don't know if you realize, Gerard's taken enough of the team out that I'm actually  _playing_. So my coach and our bugfuck principal with his pet _lizard_ is going to be coming around aaaaany minute now. And something tells me you're trying to avoid the guy."

It _was_  entirely unnecessary, if Peter's aim was to threaten Stiles. The thing is, Peter has no great need to threaten Stiles when Stiles can very well work out the options his very own self. The claws were for his little nephew, shadowed and glaring and taking a step back further into the dark where human eyes can't reach, even as he shakes with rage.

"Very good," Peter croons into the shell of that ear, "Then stay a little longer, I need to get them away from the field."

"The fiel—", the boy whips his face towards Peter, and he's treated to those amber eyes up close. Their faces are close enough that he feels like if he breathes just right he might know what the boy tastes like. "Scott's stronger now, he'll fight your control."

So quick on the uptake, Peter thinks admirably. Says it out-loud, just to see a flush, both pleased and worried, overtake Stiles' face, radiating and curling up against his cheek like a submissive pup. The shadows growl. And Peter asks, "Are you sure you wouldn't reconsider my offer?"

With his other hand he reaches down, werewolf quick, and tangles their fingers together, bringing them up as if he were to kiss the boy's fingertips... then flipping the wrist towards their faces instead. And the growl from the shadows cuts off and the heartbeat from there skitters and _races_.

The lovely lashed eyes in front of him narrow.

"The answer's still no," Stiles says, but the tone is calculating, as is his gaze; and Peter knows that Stiles knows that there is something special about his consent. Well. It might make the boy reconsider when the next time he offers.

"STILINSKI! STOP JERKING OFF AND GET YOUR ASS ONTO THE FIELD!" The coach's voice is getting clearer with every word.

"Do you usually give them a show?" He can't help but be curious.

" _No_ I do not _give them a show_ ," Stiles smarmed, "and I'm not giving them one this time," and the young man's fist rises up as if to punch him. Peter lets him try, for how useless it would be, but the fist instead dives to the boy's mouth and—

Peter falls to his knees, clutching at his ears.

"Sit." The boy says, reaching into the equipment bag he'd been carrying and brings a palmful of darkness out. Stiles lets it fall, eyes closed, and mutters, "Stay."

Then steps backwards.

And when next Peter looks around there is a line of black, that he cannot cross, tightly placed all around the stands. Stiles smirks at him cheekily from the shadows of it.

"STILINSKI!"

"That's my cue," and Stiles turns to go, mouth set, eyes hard. 

And Peter can't help but murmur, "You'd be a glorious wolf."

The boy barks an ugly laugh, sarcastic, "The world can't handle me being that awesome."  _It can barely take me now,_ sings in the empty pause _._

And then Stiles ducks deeper into the bleacher's dark to cut through to the field.

Peter huffs out a laugh, rolls his eyes and moves.

There is blood in the air tonight, Peter thinks, loping around the protectorate of mountain ash to head to the field himself. He's paced on the far side of the bleachers by his nephew, who'd himself somehow stumbled past the ash boundary when Peter'd still been incapacitated by whistle at point-blank range. Rage and possessiveness boils so alpha-red that he's surprised that humans aren't bothered by the stink of it. 

This should be good, he thinks, as he eyes Gerard on the stands, trapped in the stands with humans all around him and his immune little queen lying in wait, as he eyes the lizard boy and the werewolves on the field, as he eyes the Argent's men on the wings. As he sees Stiles walking onto the grass, taking position. Bishops and knights and rooks, queens and kings. The whistle blows as the game starts as the bodies starts crashing together.

This should be _good_.


End file.
